


Bring Out The Charge Of The Love Brigade

by monkiainen



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bullying, Child Neglect, Falling In Love, Geeky, Hurt/Comfort, Love at First Sight, M/M, Malnutrition, Neglect, Same-Sex Marriage, Self Confidence Issues, Slavery, fairytale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkiainen/pseuds/monkiainen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, fairytales are retold from a different point of view. This is one of those times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Out The Charge Of The Love Brigade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mm8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm8/gifts).



> Cinderella AU. Written for the Public Call Doctor Who Exchange.

Once upon a time there was a small boy called Theta Sigma, who lived in the outskirts of the city of Citadel. His father, a Time Lord, had died a long time ago, leaving his mother all alone in the world. His mother married another Time Lord, Torvic, but soon after their marriage his mother passed away unexpectedly.

Torvic was not a kind man, not at all. He despised Theta, for he was kind and intelligent and always looking for answers and adventures. Torvic saw those attributes as a sign of weakness, for his two sons Jaswinder and Oddmund were anything but – they were bulky, cruel and unimaginative. All too soon little Theta was forced to live in the kitchen, in the darkest and dirtiest corner of the room. His step-brothers treated him like slave, always demanding him to do this or to do that. Because of his caring and nurturing nature, Jaswinder and Oddmund started calling him “the Doctor” instead of his actual name. Soon, nobody remembered the real name of the small boy in dirty clothes, and the Doctor became his name. For centuries that was the life of the Doctor, until one day…

On the other side of Citadel, in the Castle of Oakdown, a boy called Koschei lived a very different life than the Doctor. He, too, was intelligent and always looking for answers, but he always felt like there was something crucial missing from his life. Koschei’s parents told him not to think of such stupid things, for someday he would become the Master and rule the kingdom of Gallifrey. Koschei buried his longings under a mask of indifference, never forgetting the emptiness inside him.

Centuries went by, and the Master was trained to be the ruler of Gallifrey. Everything was in order, except for one thing: to truly rule Gallifrey, the Master had to marry before his 500th birthday or his distant cousin the General would take the post instead. The problem was that the Master saw everyone to be beneath his intelligence and refused to marry any of them. 

Eventually his father, the wise and all-knowing Rassilon, decided to have a magnificent ballroom dance to help his only son to find the perfect spouse. All the eligible young men and women from Citadel were called to attend the dance, but the Master was suspicious. There could never be anyone he would like to have by his side for the centuries to come.

Torvic was excited about the chance of either Jaswinder or Oddmund marrying the Master. The marriage would make him even more powerful than he already was – Torvic saw himself as the true ruler of Gallifrey, working behind the scenes. The lure of the power was making both Jaswinder and Oddmund heady with anticipation, for they both were under the illusion they could easily oppress the more slightly built Master under their wills. How wrong they were.

The Doctor listened to his step-father and step-brothers, hoping that there was a chance he, too, could attend the ballroom dance, if for nothing else than to escape his dreary life for a moment. The Doctor sighed, fiddling with his right earlobe. There was no chance he could ever go to the ballroom dance, given the way he was looking. The Doctor looked at his reflection in the dusty mirror in the corner, and sighed again. What he saw was a young man with brown, spiky hair and brown eyes, with too many freckles and high cheekbones. He was tall and thin, no doubt because of the long decades of countless work and too little food. All he had to wear was a pair of old, frayed pajamas that used to be white with pink and light blue stripes but were now more of a shade of dirty grey. His step-father had once thrown away an old dressing gown of his, which the Doctor had promptly saved from the trashcan. It wasn’t pretty, but at least it was warm. Along with the dressing gown had come a pair of black slippers, the only shoes the Doctor had ever owned. No, not a chance. He really should stop daydreaming, for poor slaves like him had no place in fancy ballroom dances. Torvic had practically laughed into his face when he had dared to ask if he could go, too, and then forbidden him for leaving. The Doctor was not worthy enough to be given such a privilege.

Later on that night, Jaswinder and Oddmund left to the ballroom dance, leaving the Doctor to clean the whole house while they were gone. The Doctor scrubbed and scrubbed until his knuckles were bleeding and he was too exhausted to do anything. He returned to his little dusty corner in the kitchen, only to discover he had not been left with any food – a too common occurrence in the house of Torvic. The Doctor curled himself into a little ball in the corner, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger. Common slaves didn’t get to feel happy and full, not when they could do anything right. 

“You are selling yourself short, mister.”

The Doctor sat up in surprise, wondering if his mind was playing with him. What he saw, though, didn’t feel like his normal hunger and exhaustion fuelled hallucinations: there was a beautiful, dark-skinned woman standing in front of him, wearing a simple burgundy dress.

“Wh- who are you?” the Doctor stammered, disbelievingly.

“I’m Martha, your fairy godmother, and I’m here to help you to get to the ballroom dance”, the woman replied, smiling gently to the Doctor.

The Doctor couldn’t believe his ears – he, of all people, had a fairy godmother! But why? He was nothing special, just an orphan, living off the charity of his step-father, never doing anything worthwhile.

“Now stop that line of thought right away! You have no idea how magnificent you truly are, have you?” Martha asked sadly. Poor Doctor. Had things been different, her interference wouldn’t have been needed. It didn’t matter, though, for she had a job to do.

Martha motioned the Doctor to stand up so she could take a better look of him. _”So thin…”_ Martha muttered to herself, sighing internally. If it were up to her, she would make it sure that the Doctor would never have to feel hungry after tonight.

“So, let’s see. I think some new clothes are in order, don’t you think?” Martha asked, digging her purse for her wand. Once she had found it, a small flick was all it took to transform the Doctor from a filthy slave to a dashing young man.

The Doctor had never had such nice clothes before. He looked himself from the mirror in awe: instead of his worn pajamas he was now wearing a brown pinstripe suit with a white shirt and reddish tie with blue spots. His looks were completed with a pair of light beige Converses.

“This… this is way too much. I… I….”

“Oh, but this isn’t all yet. How did you think you were going to get to the castle, running?” Martha commented, pointing her wand to the large pumpkin in the corner. In front of the Doctor’s eyes the pumpkin was transformed into a blue police box.

“It’s… it’s…. it’s a Tardis!” the Doctor exclaimed happily. He had always wanted to see one, but Torvic had declared them as a foolish apparatus – Time Lords should stay at home and not wander around doing foolish things. The Doctor stepped forward, wanting to explore the Tardis at once, but then hesitated for a moment. It was all too good to be true – what if it was all a dream? Nobody ever gave him nice things without a price.

“Hush darling, it’s alright. You deserve this. Now go and charm that Master of yours, do you hear me?” Martha reassured the Doctor. “Oh, and one more thing. You are going to need this”, Martha continued, pulling a sonic screwdriver from her purse and handing it to the Doctor. “You have until midnight until the Tardis turns back into the pumpkin. Good luck!”

With those words Martha vanished into a thin air, leaving a very baffled Doctor behind. The Doctor wondered for a moment what he had done to deserve such luck, but then decided that what-ifs were for someone else. He finally had a chance to go on an adventure, and he would waste no more time!

On the other side of Citadel, the ballroom dance was on its way. Dozens of suitable wooers had arrived in the castle in the hopes of winning the Master’s heart over, but with no luck.

_“He’s too stupid. And that one, too.”_

_“I don’t like her cologne.”_

_“Are you bloody serious?”_

The Master groaned in frustration. Each and every suitor so far had been nothing but a waste of his precious time. He could be doing something more useful, such as working on his new and improved laser screwdriver. Instead of it he had to put up with these… morons and monstrosities and unpleasant people his father had insisted he had to mingle with. The Master decided he needed a break and silently crept into the nearby balcony.

To the Master’s surprise, the balcony wasn’t as deserted as he thought it would be. There was someone else as well, a young man about his age. The stranger was leaning in the balcony rail, seemingly lost in thought. The Master sighed – it looked his desire to have some peace was to be thwarted soon. Although the stranger did have a very good-looking backside, if nothing else.

The stranger turned around, facing the Master, and for a moment all he could do was to watch. Oh, but this wasn’t just some dreadful man, like those idiots Jaswinder and Oddmund he had to tolerate earlier. No, he was something else: brown hair and eyes, lovely cheekbones, tall and slender, his body lovely accentuated with the pinstripe suit he was wearing. Soon, the stranger averted his eyes, stammering something about leaving and making his way to the door. The Master, however, stopped him. 

“Who are you? And why are you here, when there’s a ballroom dance going on?”

The Doctor’s mind was racing. Oh, how could he be so stupid? He just wanted to have some fresh air, because all those people were making him feel crowded and unwanted, and now he was going to be told to leave. He never should have left his home to pursue some stupid dreams.

“Umm… my name is the Doctor, and…. really, I should go. I’m not really supposed to be here and I’m…” the Doctor muttered, avoiding eye contact. Better be cautious than sorry – just because the other man was shorter than him, it didn’t mean he didn’t know how to use his fists.

The Master tried to calm down the Doctor, but withdrew his hand when the other man flinched visibly. Ah. Someone had treated him badly, and now this gorgeous man was terrified of even him. The Master raked his brain to find something, anything, he could say to make the Doctor to stay. 

“What do you think about laser screwdrivers?”

Fuck. Why on earth he said **that**? Now the Doctor would find him dull and boring and geeky and…

“I prefer sonic screwdriver myself. Look, it can control the properties of atoms and molecules on a…”

The two young men were lost in conversation, each of them thrilled with other’s intelligence and wit. The Master thought he had finally found his match and was wondering how he could win the Doctor’s heart. The Doctor was more than excited to finally talk with someone, who appraised him instead of belittling and name-calling. The other man, whoever he was, shared his passion and intelligence – the Doctor wondered if he could ever get to know his name.

Suddenly, a clock started to chime in the distant. The Doctor realized in panic it was already midnight. He really needed to get away, before his charming companion would realize what kind of miserable loser he really was.

“Sorry, I need to go, I have no time to explain. It was fun and…” the Doctor shouted, running away from the castle as fast as he could. Only a little longer… the Doctor stumbled, losing his shoe in the process. He had no time to pick it up, as he could already see the Tardis waiting for him in the yard. The Master was left standing dumbfounded when the Tardis vanished from the sight, taking the Doctor with him. 

The Master picked up the shoe the Doctor had dropped, making a vow he would search the whole country if necessary to find the beautiful man it belonged to.

The next day a message was sent throughout Gallifrey: the Master was going through the country, searching for the mystery man he wanted to marry. All the eligible young men were swarming around the Master, to no avail: the shoe he had for everyone to try on didn’t fit any of them.

After searching for days and days, the Master’s journey brought him to Torvic’s house. Torvic instructed Jaswinder and Oddmund to do whatever it would take to have the shoe fit either of them. However, as much as they tried, the shoe was too small for either of them.

The Doctor watched the event in shadows, too scared to move forward. On the other hand he was delighted to see the man he had been dreaming of ever since the ballroom dance – who would have thought that his Prince Charming was no other than the Master himself! On the other hand the Doctor was afraid of what would happen if he asked to try out the shoe and it would fit; Torvic and his step-brothers would know he had been at the ballroom dance even though he had been forbidden to go. It was better to be quiet – once the Master would discover his true identity he would hate him for deceiving him. The Doctor sighed, looking at the only two things he had been able to keep as memories of that night: his sonic screwdriver and the other shoe. Without those he would have thought the whole meeting with the Master was nothing but a dream.

Unbeknownst to the Doctor one of the Master’s most loyal servants, Lucy, had noticed him huddled in the corner. “Who is that young man?” she asked Torvic, who was furious to discover his good-for-nothing step-son spying on them.

“Oh, he is nobody. Just the son of my late beloved wife – the poor boy lost his mind when his mother passed away and I have been taking care of him ever since”, Torvic explained hastily, wishing that the nosy servant would forget ever seeing the Doctor. The boy had been nothing but a nuisance ever since his mother died, always asking for attention and never stopped talking. A few good beatings had taught the kid a lesson and stopped those foolish dreams of travelling the universe.

“The Master’s orders are that every eligible young man of age must try on the shoe. Your step-son must come forward and try it too, or the Master will be irritated. We don’t want that, now do we Lord Torvic?” Lucy asked innocently, seeing through the façade Torvic was trying to present. Served him right, to do as he was told once in his life.

Lucy guided the Doctor in the main parlour, where the Master was seated with the rest of his entourage. The Master frowned, wondering why the ill-clad man in front of him looked so familiar. There was something about him… could it be? Lucy tried the shoe on the Doctor’s foot, and to everyone’s surprise it fit him perfectly. Before anyone could say anything, Torvic surged next to the Doctor, wrenched the shoe from his foot by force and threw it into the lit fireplace. Everyone watched in horror the shoe to burn in ashes.

“You foolish boy! What do you think you are doing, trying to deceive the Master like that! My Lord, I assure you, the boy has never left the house and thus can’t be the one you are searching for”, Torvic all but screamed. This was not supposed to happen! He, Torvic, should rule Gallifrey with his sons, not that miserable step-son of his.

The Master was seething – how was he now supposed to find his true love, when the shoe existed no more! In rage, the Master pulled out his laser screwdriver and was about to punish Torvic when all of a sudden he was stopped by no other than the Doctor and his sonic screwdriver.

“Please don’t hurt him. I… he…. “ the Doctor stammered, realizing what he had just done. Oh dear. Now the truth would come out.

“You… are you… but… you are the Doctor!” the Master exclaimed happily, lowering the laser screwdriver. Now that he could see the Doctor’s face, he had no doubts about his true identity. The Master was about to reach for the Doctor, when he was stopped by Lucy.

“My Lord, I’d hate to be a spoilsport, but our only way of proving his identity has been destroyed by Torvic”, Lucy reminded him. Upon hearing those words, the Doctor all but ran to his filthy corner, and returned to the parlour with the other shoe in his hands.

The next morning a message was sent again throughout Gallifrey: the Master had found his true love, and they would marry as soon as possible. The Master and the Doctor were loved by everyone – the Master for his wisdom and the Doctor for his kindness. Soon, though, the wonders of universe were calling for the Doctor, and off he went on his Tardis, with the Master as his companion. The loyal and trustworthy Lucy was named as the regent on their behalf, and she, too, was loved by the people of Gallifrey.

The Doctor and the Master travelled through time and space, seeing wonders of the past and the future. They lived happily ever after, stopping by at Gallifrey now and then before taking off again.

And what happened to Torvic? Well, that is a whole another story to tell.


End file.
